Breaking Pointe
by knifeandfork
Summary: Rose Hathaway, a non-traditional but physically gifted ballerina, returns to the prestigious New York School of Ballet after an extended leave of absence. As she becomes accustomed to her competitive final year of training, she must steer her way through the ruthless social and political scene whilst keeping her emotions in check when it comes to her older yet seductive mentor.


**Hi everyone, here's my first go at a fanfic, go easy, I'm a bit rusty on the creative writing! I hope you enjoy! :)**

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"Rose!" An all too familiar voice sounded, reaching my room from the floor below. "Get up, otherwise you'll be late!" The voice sounded again.

"Fuck." I groaned sleepily. A sickening feeling pooled in my stomach as I became accustomed to the day it was- partly due to nerves as well as the affects of alcohol the morning after.

"Yeah, I'm coming!" I yelled in reply.

I scrambled out from the bundle of sheets on my bed and assessed the state of my room. Dismissing the large modernised area, it was a mess. A mountain of clothes pooled up near the entrance of my closet, as well as empty bottles sprinkled on various parts of the white carpet, which reminded me of the throbbing pain I felt near my temples. Mental note- never drink again, especially on a day like this. Dismissing the pain and uncomfortable feeling in my stomach, I turned my head towards my bedside table. The clock read 7:58am. Class started in about half an hour.

"Fuck!" I repeated. Leaping out of my bed, I hurriedly scrambled through my closet, opening one of the many drawers filled with tights, leotards and baggy warm-up clothes. I stood still for a brief moment, having not seen them in a year, but I shook off the many memories they brought and grabbed a crimson coloured leo, pink tights and a warm-up jumpsuit. Quickly changing, and slipping a black cardigan over the top as well as black flats on my feet, I snatched up my bag, brushed my teeth and headed down stairs. The kitchen was mainly white and was filled with expensive and abstract furniture.

"I see you came home late last night…again" Mum started, her eyes still stuck on the paper. I simply rolled my eyes.

"Good morning to you too, Janine!" I sarcastically replied, grabbing a packet of chips and quickly shoving them down. She sighed at the choice at my poor breakfast and looked up.

"Firstly, it's mother or mum to you, and secondly now that you are starting at NYSB, drop the rebellious act and start looking after your diet and enough with the parties filled with alcohol"

I finished a bite before snapping back, "In other words, 'you're big, stop stuffing your face and if you want a future stop with the social life'?"

"That's not what I meant and you know it isn't. I just want what's best for you Rosemary."

And I knew she didn't think I was big, because I wasn't. I just wasn't the classic ballerina shape. Although I had long legs and was relatively trim, I was not a stick insect like my classmates. I was slightly muscular and definitely curvy, which was perfectly normal for a teenager, however in the ballet world it seemed to be a sin. And since I had been out of training for the past year, combined with a lifestyle of partying and booze, I wasn't exactly in the best of shape.

'No, you just want a perfect skinny daughter who doesn't enjoy herself and party across the Manhattan social scene, as that just reflects badly on daddy, now doesn't it?" I bit back sharply.

She ignored this remark and continued, "This has nothing to do with your father. You and I are perfectly well aware of the future you could have. Your teachers know this as well and you are very fortunate to be given this second chance. But it's up to you Rose. If you want it you will get it, and now it's crunch time. If you want a position in the company it's time to actually work. You are lucky you can rely on your natural ability otherwise the 6 months of training you just wasted could've ended any chance of a career".

I simply glared at her with burning fury in my eyes. God, I hated hearing this same bloody talk from her. It was seriously getting old and seemed like she read way too many 'how to talk to your daughter' books. I knew what I had- perfect flexibility, strength, turnout, arched- feet and hyperextension. It was incredibly rare to contain all of these elements however I guess I won the genetic lottery. And I had taken it for granted, which I did not appreciate getting reminded of as it brought up events of last year.

"You don't know shit all of why I did the things I did last year; it's not as black and white as it seems, so don't think I just opted out of training and work. God, I'm so not in the mood for the 'be a perfect teenager' talk right now, I'm going to be late for class. Have fun not having to do absolutely anything all day except mingle with all the snobs of the Upper East Side". I was being petty but I wasn't in the mood, so I simply threw the empty packet in the bin, stormed out of the apartment, and took the elevator to the first level where I was welcomed by the August air of Manhattan.

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The New York School of Ballet was only a couple of blocks from the penthouse, so I made a quick dash using the route I knew all too well and was there. Standing in front of the building, the sudden sickness became evident once again, and I had the sudden urge to go shopping… Or jump off a cliff, because although I had only been here for a year before it happened, it felt as though I was setting myself up for a self-esteem battering- something I had spent too long building up once more. But I sucked it up, assuring myself this would be a piece of cake, and walked up the concrete steps, through the large glass doors where I was greeted by my worst nightmare.

The all too familiar scent of sweat mixed in with deodorant wafted through my nose, making me feel even queasier. What a lovely start to the day. I walked through reception quickly, trying to dodge the eyes of first year students who huddled together in whispers as I walked by, no doubt rumours had circulated around the building since last year so I should've expected it. Even Karina, the receptionist gave me a surprised glance as I passed, which I simply returned with a smile and kept moving until I found the third year change rooms. Thankfully no one was here. I closed my eyes and exhaled slowly before opening and properly searching the space, which was filled with numerous mirrors, chairs and a couple of couches dotted about. Chucking my bag near a sink, I quickly yanked my hair supplies from my bag and pulled my brown locks up into a bun. Wow, stylish. I forgot what an absolute knob I looked like in ballet gear. Shrugging, I took off my flats, and downed some drugs to help my head and stomach. I then became curious as to why no one was changing, so I peered at the small clock situated on the wall, which read 8:32am.

"Oh, shit!" I cursed, and bolted out of the change rooms, down the hall until I found Studio B. Quickly dismissing the butterflies arising rapidly in my stomach, I opened the door to a dozen faces who turned my way, mouths now hanging open. Wasn't this going to be a treat.

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**Well, that was the first chapter! what do you guys think? next chapter will get more interesting- get to understand a little bit more of what happened to Rose last year, her father and get to meet her classmates and Dimitri- her new teacher!**


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